


A New World

by Iron



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Arcee Catches Feelings, F/F, Porn With Plot, Slash had them all along, Sweet, fwb to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron/pseuds/Iron
Summary: Arcee likes fragging the femme she picked up in a bar. She doesn’t expect thethingshe has with the Dinobot to turn into something more.—For @floralpunkcfb on Twitter, as part of the femmeslash exchange!
Relationships: Arcee&Hot Rod&Springer, Arcee/Slash, Slash & the Dinobots
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	A New World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harperuth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/gifts).



> If you like my work, hang out with on Twitter at [@fab_roddy!](https://mobile.twitter.com/fab_roddy)

She finds the femme in a bar. Probably not the best place to find an interfacing partner, but they both started off sober and, honestly, the Dinobot had looked so hot that Arcee couldn’t resist. She can’t say she’s regretting it now, either. 

Arcee leans into the hand on her cheek, fingers digging into the plating above the sweet femme under her’s knees, hips rolling into the spike in her valve. “Frag, you’re pretty like that,” she groans. The ridges of that sweet spike slides over the nodes in her valve, hotter than lava, burning her from the inside out in the best way. She rolls her hips again just to watch the pretty femme’s helm fall back, tip of her glossa curling back behind her top teeth as her mouth falls opens, optics going to static. 

Arcee stops moving, feeling that hot spike twitch inside her. Slash screams, legs fighting against Arcee’s hold as she tries to rut into Arcee’s valve, claws digging into the berth. Arcee rides each upward thrust of her hips, snickering. “You’re not allowed to overload just yet, lovely.” She waits until the overload has slipped out of Slash’s grasp to grind back down on her spike, head butting up against her ceiling node. “And I’m not going to overload for a long time.” 

Slash whimpers, fans teachings a painful pitch. “ _Please_ , please - just...” 

It’s the begging that finally sends her tumbling over the edge, riding that spike as she clenches around it. She finally allows Slash to fall over the edge with her, screaming as she overloads inside her, filling her up and up and _up_. 

She collapses into Slash’s chest, strength gone out of her legs. “Oh, Slash, we’ve gotta do that again soon.” She mutters into her chest, cheek smooshed up against something spiky. 

Slash goes limp on the floor, ventilations finally calming as the charge washes through her system. Her hips ache from her legs being stretching so far, but they’re not hurt, and she pulls the pretty femme that had just about ruined her up further onto her chest. “I have to get back to my unit before they start freaking out. Eventually.” She pets Arcee’s spine. “Later.” 

Eventually Arcee rolls off of her, sticky between her thighs and frame starting to ache. She pets Slash’s shoulder, distracted, mind already racing with thoughts on how she’s going to deal with Prowl’s machinations and Starscream being ridiculous and Windblade being earnest. She wants to crawl back onto the floor and frag Slash into the ground instead. 

She looks down at her, something tugging at her chest. “Meet you at the bar in a few days?” 

“You have to go so soon?” 

“Work. But. The bar. I’ll see you in a few days.” 

“It is a date.”  
— 

Work is awful. Prowl is awful. Starscream makes her want to actually kill someone, and she swears he was fragging Megatron in the closet when she got in. Windblade is probably the only person there keeping her from doing exactly that, but even she starts to grate on her nerves after a while, too helpful and too kind and too ready to butt her righteous nose into everything. Arcee’s never been one to be exactly happy to slink down to the bar at the end of the week with the rest of the maladjusted vets, but this time there’s a pep in her step. _This_ time she gets to spend her night with a pretty Dinobot. No putting out fires and no wallowing in highgrade; she doubts either of them will drink tonight. More stamina that way. 

When she gets inside she immediately orients herself towards the large, hulking group of Dinobots in the back corner, close enough to the bar that they never have to go far for another drink and out of the way enough of the crowds that no one is going to be tempted to pick a fight with them. Arcee gets it; she always sits with her back to a wall, just in case someone doesn’t take too well to her being there. She can’t imagine it’s any easier for them. She’s probably killed their friends before. She’d say they’d probably killed hers too, if she had friends outside of Hot Rod and Springer. 

She takes the barstool nearest to the group, ordering something weak. She doesn’t like having to sober up before she frags someone, and she doesn’t frag anyone overcharged. Besides, when she turns her shoulder she spots the pretty dinobot from the night before curled up against the biggest one’s shoulder - Grimlock, maybe? She can’t remember their names. Had never been required to before. She turns all the way in her seat, drink in hand, to watch them. They’re jostling each other, joking and snarling and grunting, and she’d almost be worried about Slash getting lost in the collection of them if the femme wasn’t in the thick of it harassing them, slashing at them with short daggers and snickering when they drag huge hands over her helm and give her noogies. Something sharp and hot spikes through her chest. She can taste in the back of her throat, and it tastes like the empty nights she spent on an empty Cybertron, before she found her boys. 

Arcee watches the femme fight her way free of the crowd, ducking under one hulking mech’s arm and slipping in beside Arcee. “You are here! Why did you not get me?” 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your time with your family.” 

She snorts. “Those bozos? I could go hang with them whenever I wanted. I want you.” 

Arcee will deny it until her dying day, but something bubbles up in her chest, warm and sweet. She hunches over her cube and rides out the sudden surge of emotion inside her. Most people think she’s too rough, too sharp - most people outside her boys, anyways. “Oh. Thanks. You want a drink?” She holds up her glass. “I don’t mind paying.” 

She knocks their shoulders together, leaning onto the counter. “No. I can pay for my own fuel. You look very pretty tonight! Did you polish?” 

“Just got off work. The Tower requires I look, ugh, ‘nice’. Starscream makes you go outside if your polish isn’t perfect. Something about the war being over and no longer having to suffer an ‘affront to his seeker sensibilities’.” She snickers. Hot Rod doesn’t give two slags about seeker sensibilities - not that she can get away with the slag he does, but it’s nice to see that _he_ doesn’t have to change. 

Slash purrs her engine, optic visor bright in the dim light of the bar. “It makes me want to scuff you up.” Her grin is predatory, sharp teeth gleaming. Under the counter, a sharp bit of her kibble scrapes against Arcee’s leg. A shiver runs up her spine, and she takes a sip of her drink to hide it. 

The Dinobot frowns. “Hey. You are okay with my touching? You do not mind my flirting?” 

Arcee drops the cup back to the countertop, surprised. “I don’t - I don’t mind. Why would I mind?” 

“You are very stiff. You are not touching me back.” 

“I didn’t know that was expected of me.” 

“Not expected. Most bots touch back. I did not want to make you uncomfortable, so I asked.” Her smile is softer than it was a second ago. Arcee sighs, shoulders dropping from their defensive hike. 

“Right. You were being considerate. Sorry, I just -“ _I’m used to mechs not caring._ She dredges up a smile, though it turns real enough when she realizes the femme is looking at her with earnest sweetness and nothing more. “Thanks for asking. Yeah, I liked it. I like it when you muss my polish.” 

“Good. I like leaving you covered in my paint.” She jostles her again. “I will order a glass of engex. You will tell me about your day?” 

“Not much interesting to say about it.” She grimaces. The bartender takes Slash’s drink order, offering both femmes a smarmy little smile when he hands it over. “Starscream was awful, Optimus tried to be a good leader, the colony mechs were embarrassing and backwards. I spent most of the day filling out paperwork and putting out fires.” 

“Do you not enjoy fires?” 

“Not when those fires include Starscream insulting some brat of a politician and me having to grovel at their peds until they agree not to trash the treaty for it.” 

“That sounds like you need to bite someone.” She flashes Arcee a look at her fangs. 

“I would love to have bitten those slaggers.” She grumbles into the mouth of her cup, downing the rest of her energon spritzer. It fizzes weakly against the insides of her denta, settling in her tank like a sour puddle. 

She’s still grumbling about it when she feels claws pick at the seams on her thigh. “You can bite me,” the femme purrs. “I can take it.” Heat blooms under her touch, and Arcee shivers. “Would you like to bite me?” 

Arcee drops her cup onto the counter top. “...yeah, I want you to bite me. Frag.” She lays her hands flat on the bar top as one claw tip works its way into the seam running up her inner thigh, two smaller ones sliding into the seam next to her groin. Her valve drools a bead of lubricant, clenching down on nothing. 

Slash leans in, close enough to scrape her denta along the edge of her audial. The lubricant pools on the inside of her panel, valve lips swelling in growing arousal. The claws in her seams pull away, hand petting her thigh instead. “Tell me you want me to touch you.” 

Arcee rests her own hand on top of Slash’s, guiding it back to the apex of her thighs. “Keep touching me. Please.” 

“I will touch you. I will make you leak on this bar stool, if you want me to.” Clever fingers rub her panel, putting enough pressure on the metal to press against her swelling valve lips. She can almost here them squish back against her pelvic unit. 

“Or we could just get out of here, and you can make me do more then leak a puddle on a public bar stool.” 

The dinobot purrs, edging into Arcee’s space until their sides are pressed together. “I like that idea. I will pay our tab - you will go to the alley outside and wait for me.” 

She’s already leaving drips of lubricant on the stool, and when she stands drops of it trickle down her thighs, catching in the seams where her upper thighs meet her groin. “Three minutes, and you’d better be fast or I’ll take care of it myself.” 

Slash is practically vibrating. “I will be there in two.” She’s already slapping cred chips on the counter when Arcee slips out the door to the alley. 

Alleyways in Cybertron are new enough that they’re not completely disgusting and filled with refuse yet. The walls are even fairly clean, barring the murals clearly made by some disgruntled NAILs - one of them is a mech clearly meant to be Optimus Prime behind taken from behind by a mech who’s bucket helm and grey paint is clearly meant to be Megatron. The mech’s spikes are both luridly painted and very large. She stares at it, mentally cataloging all the mistakes the artist had made. She should tell Hot Rod and Springer about it. They can come back and fix it - she knows for a fact, now, what Megatron’s spike looks like. Even if she wishes she didn’t. 

She leans against the wall, arms crossed. Charge buzzes in her frame, making her twitchy and anxious. She wants to touch herself; waiting for Slash is awful. 

Repayment is worth it, of course. 

Slash slings Arcee’s legs over her shoulders, forcing the femme to hold herself up against the wall as she goes down on her knees and nuzzles at her closed valve panel. The alleyway smells like rot and worse, but Arcee could honestly care less with the pretty femme so needy to get behind her panel as she is. She’s all but leaking after the earlier teasing in the bar, uncomfortably swollen mesh pressing against the inside of her panel. It pinches a bit at the seams, until she finally lets it slide back under Slash’s ministrations and allows her fat valve lips to push out of the space they’d once occupied. 

Slash makes a noise of deep pleasure, burying nose and mouth in that sweet valve. Her glossa laves over the inner folds of Arcee’s valve, lapping up her lubricants, nose nudging against the underside of her happily winking node insistently. Slash makes a soft, hungry noise as Arcee’s thick thighs wrap themselves tightly around her helm, visor creaking from the pressure of it. The edge of one of her fangs drags over the underside of a thick valve lip, and Arcee yelps from the sharp sensation. Overload crashes over her with all suddenness, and she digs her fingertips into Slash’s helm as she ruts and rubs herself against that perfect mouth. 

Slash lets her peds drop to the ground slowly, guiding each trembling leg until Arcee can support herself. When Arcee looks up at her, her mouth is still covered in her lubricants. The dinobot catches her optics and slowly drags her glossa over her lips, seeking out any trace of her within reach. When she’s done she wipes the rest away with the back of her hand, engine rumbling with contentedness. “Is that enough to tide you over until we reach your apartment?” 

Arcee, frame still buzzing with spent charge and knees weak, feels her valve cycle and clench at the thought of what saying ‘no’ might mean. She drools lubricants down her thigh, thick droplets that leave tingling anticipation in their wake. “One more?” 

With a soft rumble of laughter, deep enough to send a shiver up Arcee’s spine, Slash scoops her up in her arms. Arcee’s never appreciated how nice size differences are, but she can see herself becoming a fan of them after this, with her helm cradled under Slash’s chin as the femme picks her way through the alley. A hand slides between her thighs as Slash steps onto the street, one claw tip tickling her valve lips as she walks. Cradles as she is against Slash’s chest, no one can see the way she’s being touched, the femme fondling her in in the sweet dusk of the rebuilding city. She gently pinches one of her valve lips, worrying it between the rough digits as the pad of her thumb presses up against Arcee’s node. “Why don’t we see if you can’t overload before I reach your apartment, hot stuff.” 

Arcee breaks into helpless giggles. They burst out of her like sunlight over a ridge, rising and falling before she can finally stall her hiccuping ventilations. “Hot - Hotstuff?” 

“What’s wrong with calling you Hot Stuff?” 

“It’s what I call Roddy when he’s being _naughty_ , I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, it’s just - _hot stuff_.” She breaks into helpless giggles again, slapping her hands over her mouth. Primus, Slash probably thinks the worst of her now, laughing in the middle of some kinky interfacing game. 

But Slash doesn’t look angry when Arcee risks looking up at her. She just looks ... _Soft_. Soft and amused, corner of her mouth quirked up. 

“If I knew it was that easy to make you laugh, I would have used that one on you the night we met.” 

“Why?” 

“You look happy when you laugh.” Slash kisses her slack mouth, turning into the alley behind her half-habitable apartment. “They keep the backdoor to this place unlocked, right?” 

“Um. Yeah.” That warm bubbly feeling in her chest is back, filling her up from the tips of her fingers to the points of her peds. 

“Good.” 

— 

Arcee slips out of the berth before Slash wakes up, milling around her quiet apartment. She folds the blankets crumbled up on the floor, wandering down the hall to wipe up the transfluid splattered against one wall, the lubricants on the floor, the mixed fluids on her countertops and in her wash rack. 

If they were dating, it would be a good second date. They aren’t, but that doesn’t make what they did any less satisfying. Really, Arcee couldn’t find any arguments against what they’d done - she’d enjoyed herself profoundly. An enjoyment that will have to come to an end soon, because when she checks her internal calendar she remembers that she has a date with Hot Rod and Springer at midday. Hot Rod likes to use it to bitch about being the Prime’s successor, and Springer likes to talk about the progress he’s been making in the rebuilding the civilian sector with Prowl and Ultra Magnus. Not exactly interesting, but they’re her amica and she likes being there for them. 

She scrubs at a spot of dried transfluid next to her sink, frowning. Well, Slash would have to just leave. She can’t cancel on her boys; they’d never cancelled on her before, and she’s missed them. That means going back to the berth room and telling the dinobot that she has to leave. 

Right. 

She tosses the wash cloth in the bin in the corner, frowning. She still has to clean _herself_ up, and even if that’s just scrubbing off the paint and transfluid and slapping on a bit of polish, it’s going to take hours to pull the dents from her frame. Slash will just _have_ to go. 

Arcee slips into her berth room, optics on the femme sprawled so enticingly on her berth. “Hey. Hey!” She climbs into the berth, straddling one of Slash’s thighs. “Wake up, I need to talk to you.” 

The femme groans. She tries to roll over, shoulders twisting on the berth, but she’s trapped in place by Arcee’s weight. Her visor brightens, then dims, and she stills as she takes in the pretty pink frame on top of her own. “This is a nice way to wake up, but I do not think you wanted to wake me up for more interfacing?” 

Arcee’s array gives a dull throb. “Nope. I have a thing later. Need to get ready for it. Need to get you out of my apartment, first. Sorry.” 

“Sorry does not make up for losing time with you.” She sits up slowly. “I will wash off and leave. Take a shower with me. Then I will take you to your ‘thing’ and say goodbye.” 

Arcee winces at the idea of introducing Slash to the boys. They don’t _like_ each other’s significant others; Arcee somehow doubts this would go over any better than the time Hot Rod tried to date the flame-headed idiot from Caminus. “Why don’t we wash and go from there?” 

“Then we will wash.” Slash rolls them over, pressing Arcee into the berth and licking a stripe up the side of her helm. “I want to use your polish. You taste good.” 

Her valve gives another weak throb, spike stirring. She’d used it so much last night that the plating feels scuffed. She’s surprised it can do anything right now. She pushes Slash off, the femme sliding off of her and the berth both. 

“Washrack is through the door to the left. I’ll follow in a second.” She needs to get a damn grip on her libido first. Fragging in the washrack is not the plan. She doesn’t have time for fragging, Primus damn it! 

She cycles air until her frame has calmed, and the sounds of running water have started to trickle from the room. She slips into the washrack, steam already filling the room. The one thing she’d made sure the apartment building had gotten right was the washrack - something most soldiers appreciated after millennia of the military barracks’ excuses for showers. She’d even had an oil soak installed in hers, though right now it’s empty and dry. The shower is running in the corner, and Slash is stretched out under the shower heads, face upturned to let the solvents soak into every crevasse of her sharp frame. 

Arcee slides in to join her, grabbing a bottle of cleanser off the shelf and pouring a good dollop of it into her hand. Behind her, Slash hooks her chin over her shoulder and watches her lather up the soaps into a thick lather. “If I promise not to rev you up, can I wash you?” She asks. 

“I’ve already got soap in my hands.” 

“You can use the soap on me.” Hands settle on her hips, warm and slick, a wet front pressing up against her back kibble. 

“If I let you wash me, we’ll just end up fragging.” 

“That is bad?” 

“I have a _thing_ , Slash. I can’t be late, and I’m already running behind. Just - wash yourself. Promise we can take our time in the shower next time you stay the night.” Like there’s going to be a next time. Like she’s planning for the future. Like there’s a future with _Slash_. 

They’re not even dating. Primus, they’re barely even friends. They just frag. 

Slash reaches over her helm to grab the soap bottle, frame too-warm against Arcee. “Next time. I will take it as a promise.” 

Arcee truly wishes she didn’t have to wait until ‘next time’ as they finish washing and polishing themselves, never straying more than a hand’s breath from each other. Arcee doesn’t know why; it just feels good to be near the other femme. She rushes them out the door as soon as the polish has dried on both of them, Slash smelling like a heady combination of Arcee’s polish and her own plating. Arcee wants to drag her into a corner and stick her spike in her. 

But she can’t. She has to go see her boys and make sure her boys don’t forget what she looks like. 

Slash insists on walking her to the door of one of the only good places to eat on Cybertron. Hot Rod and Springer are waiting inside. Arcee makes sure they’re not looking when she kisses pulls her helm down to kiss her, keeping it chaste. Can’t be pulled into a make out session now. 

She pulls away slowly, venting hard despite herself. “I have to go.” 

“Let me pick you up from work?” 

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.” 

“I can’t. I don’t work tonight. Pick you up for breakfast from your place tomorrow?” 

“You do not even know where I live.” She huffs a little, amused. “You will go into the dinobot’s den for me?” 

“Wouldn’t you do that for me?” 

“You do not like me as much as I like you. Go. Eat.” She gently pushes Arcee away, stepping back towards the street. “Your friends are watching.” 

Arcee startles, pulling away. “Right. Um. Ping me your address, I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow? We can go get breakfast. I heard they reopened the crystal gardens last week. We can go check them out.” 

“Crystal gardens. Yes.” 

Arcee turns and flees into the diner. 

Hot Rod and Springer are giving her the worst looks when she plops into their booth, the racer leaning onto the table and the triple changer leaning back, arms crossed. “So. You’re dating a _Dinobot_.” 

“I’m not dating her. We just frag.” 

“Just fragging doesn’t leave you lingering out front as long as you two were.” 

“We’re friends. Friends talk _and_ frag.” 

“So you’re just friends who frag?” 

“Because Grimlock came to talk to me yesterday. He thinks she’s crazy about you. Wanted to know if you’d break her spark.” 

_I like you more than you like me_. “She doesn’t.” 

Springer rolls his optics. “We like the Dinobots.” 

“Slag is like, funner’n the Pit.” 

“And _one_ of us should date.” Springer looks all soft, and Arcee’s spark aches. One of them should get love. It _should_ be Springer, soft as he is. Should be Hot Rod, who wants to love and be loved so bad. Should be anyone not as damaged as she is. 

But. “You guys really think she likes me? You know her?” 

Hot Rod stretches out across the table. “I do. I hang out with the Dinobots all the fragging time, when stupid Optimus isn’t telling me what to do or making me go to classes. I like them. I like _her_. She’d be good for you.” 

“She probably doesn’t even like me like... that. Besides, you guys know how hard relationships are.” 

“Relationships are only hard because our lives are complicated. She could handle complicated.” 

Arcee groans. “You know, I didn’t expect you guys to like her.” 

“Why wouldn’t we like Slash?” 

“The Dinobots rock.” 

She looks between them, both of them stupidly happy for her. For a relationship she doesn’t even have with the best femme she’s ever met, and groans. “I hate both of you.” 

“You love us.” 

“We ordered for you. Enjoy the breakfast platter!” 

— 

The morning of her ... her _date_ with Slash, Arcee spends an hour on her polish alone, carefully shining every plate and cleaning every seam in anticipation. She even trims and cleans the wires of her protoform, just to make herself feel as well groomed as she looks. 

Slash had commed her the address the night before. It’s in one of the mostly undeveloped parts of Iacon, where the streets are nonexistent and most of the buildings have been pulled down and cannibalized to build up other parts of the city. There’s just one building in the middle of nowhere; it looks more like a warehouse than a place where people live. 

Still, there are fairy lights strung around the outside of it, and someone had painted a sign to put out front declaring it the “Dinobot’s Cave” in drippy red lettering. They’d even beaten a path into the ground to the front door. Stray ped steps in strange shapes show off their altmodes; she can pick out on or two that look like Slash’s smaller than the rest. 

Hesitation grips her spark. She slows her steps, bouncing on her toes in front of the door. 

She doesn’t want to knock. If her boys liked Slash, then she knows Slash’s family won’t like her. Isn’t that how it always goes? One person’s family always has to hate the date mate. She doesn’t get a choice. The door rips open, and a huge shape looms in the doorway. Arcee bristles, taking a step back.

“You Arcee here to pick up her Slash?” The Dinobot in the doorway looks down at her, red visor bright in the dim light. “This house asleep. You Arcee go and come back when the house is awake.” 

“I’m just here to pick up Slash. She knew when I was coming to get her, she should be ready to go.” 

“Her Slash do not get ready before the sun is awake. The sun is not. She Slash is not. You Arcee come back _later_.” 

“I can wait here until she’s awake.” It’d be annoying, and she’d probably spend the first half of the day grumpy, but she _could_ if it meant she got to go on her date with Slash like she wants. 

The mech mutters something, lumbering out of the door way and disappearing into the dark of the hab. Arcee assumes that means she’ll be waiting a while, and settles into for the long haul. 

It’s not long at all, really. She hasn’t even had time to get comfortable leaning against the side of the house before Slash is poking her helm out of the doorway, looking for her. The Dinobot brightens when she spots her. “Sorry, I forgot to set my alarm!” 

Arcee smiles at her. “I wasn’t waiting. You ready to go on our date to the crystal gardens?” 

Slash just _looks_ at her, her polished plating and her hopeful smile, and nods. “I am ready for our date.” _Our date_. 

It really does sound perfect coming from her.


End file.
